Reanimated
by Suikorin
Summary: Watari Yutaka. Age 22. Smart. Handsome. Eccentric. Charming. He was prodigy of his time, with a promising future and respect. However, he harbored a secret and all of it spilled out when he meets his Math Professor Tatsumi. AU. Gender change.


Title: Reanimated

Summary: Watari Yutaka. Age 22. Smart. Handsome. Eccentric. Charming. He was prodigy of his time, with a promising future, respect from all in his field, admiration from both friends and enemies and a beautiful girlfriend to hold. However, he harbored a deep secret, one that should have died with him. Then, he met the mysterious Math Professor, Tatsumi, Warning: AU. Female Tatsumi.

Rated: Teen + for violence.

AN: I was going through my notes for "Patient in Ward 4" when I found this. I wrote this back when I wanted to write something very sweet, long and cute, but I couldn't write shounen-ai...so I made a character into a girl. I read it sometime in 10/11 and realized how horrid the grammar was so I fixed a bit of that.

It's a little embarrassing to admit but I personally do not like shounen-ai, more specially, I do not like writing shouen-ai. So, before you throw the tomatoes in protest, consider yourselves warned becauses I am very good at dodgeball (and thus, verry good at dodging tomatoes.)

Chapter 1 - Midnight Musical

It was late and all was quiet in the office. There was the light tapping of the keyboards, a scratch of pen or pencil across paper, some shuffling here and there, and a singular light at a desk next the window. Outside the window, the main boulevard of JuOhCho was lit by moonlight. Crickets creaked and the wind gentling rustling the sakura trees outside. There was no excitement, only the slow, almost meditative routine moments by the Summoning Department's newest shinigami.

Hisoka liked working late. There was no need for mental shields and thus all attention could be devoted to real work. That was not to say that he disliked working during the day. The other clowns of the Summoning Division made the day exciting and funny at the expense of actual productive work and peace of mind. As much as Hisoka would never admit that he actually enjoyed the daily entertainment, he was too much of an adult to indulge in the misadventures of other shinigamis. Additionally, unlike Tsuzuki, Hisoka did NOT enjoy the consequence of neglecting desk work. Hisoka only had to be lectured once to learn exactly why no one in their right minds purposely irritated Tatsumi.

Hisoka yawned as he printed and signed the report. It was a piece of cake considering that all he had to do was transcribe Tsuzuki's handwriting. The entire ministry was in middle of transitioning to electronic reporting so both reporting formats were required. Everyone complained, of course, and Konoe even apologized for creating additional work. Everyone did do what they were told, eventually.

Oddly enough, for being such a slob, Tsuzuki had a neat and clear handwriting. At least that somehow made up for how painfully slow Tsuzuki was at typing.

For a moment, Hisoka mused about how no one was ever what they really seemed. Tsuzuki was lazy, but he was rather efficient at his work. Tatsumi looked so submissive to their Department chief, Konoe but even Konoe knew not to go against Tasumi's wishes. Muraki, a kind doctor during the day and a murderer...

Hisoka shook his head, trying to clear his head and keep his thought train toward the positive side of things. Getting himself angry was useless. In fact, he was caught doing so by Tatsumi and received a humbling lecture for it.

Hisoka got up, putting the usual stationary away in their designated holders and drawers, patted the papers into a neat pile and proceeded down the hall to the copier.

As usual, the copy machine was shut off to save on the electric bill. While Hisoka was waiting for the machine to warm up, he heard something unexpected.

It was a melodious piano music, in sonata form. The harmonies were complex with an interesting mix of classical and romantic cords, dappled by flowing arpeggios. There were no haunting notes or maddening tempo like Hijiri's violin piece, _Demon Trill_. Instead, the rhythm was a steady andante punctuated by sixteenth notes and florid chromatic scales. Just by listening for a minute, Hisoka felt his heart lift and a smile on his lips. Being the son of a traditional family that extremely valued the arts in all its forms, Hisoka had heard many famous piano pieces and was taught to discern between meaningless tunes and masterful compositions.

Reasoning that the machine would probably take more than half an hour to warm up, Hisoka decided to follow the sound. Hisoka liked the piano music and wanted to get the artist so he could get the actual recording with his next paycheck. Reading with soft music in the background was very relaxing and quickly becoming one of Hisoka's favorite activities. With one hand on the wall to help himself navigate the dark office, Hisoka soon found the source of the music.

It was coming from Watari's lab.

Hisoka was immediately apprehensive.

Watari was the questionable scientist of JuOhCho. He kept the equipment in the office in working order in addition to inventing or attempting to invent off-the-wall items, the strangest was the sex change potion. What alarmed people the most was that Watari could be completely without scruples when it came to guinea pigs. Anything could become a subject, a chair, a pencil, even fellow shinigami. The usual victim was Tsuzuki, but that was usually because Tsuzuki was weak against the Watari's typical bribes: sweets and beer.

Still, Watari was well respected and a trusted shinigami when it came to his actual job. Hisoka had learned from looking at some of the employee profiles to know that Watari was given far more freedom than most shinigami. No other had a dedicated lab to, not even those in the Research and Development Department; those research geeks had to share. Powerful and reliable in his own eccentric way, Watari had been working solo ever since he started in JuOhCho. There had to be reasons why Watari was able to circumspect one of the fundamental rules of the Department. And as bad as Watari's eccentric selection of experiments and guinea pigs, he was one of the few shinigamis that everyone felt comfortable to go to for advice.

Standing in front of Watari's lab, Hisoka silently prayed to Enma Dai Oh that he was not about to walk into one of Watari's clever traps. At first, he knocked.

Nothing. But the music continued.

Knowing Watari's habit of being completely absorbed by his work, Hisoka decided to dispense with usual courtesy of knocking on the door and walk in. With a hand on the handle, the door swung silently open.

Watari's lab was disheveled. Beakers, flasks, Bunsen burners, random widgets, lab coats, tweezers, chainsaws and strange metal contraption scattered in the front work area at random. It was also dark. The only light was the faint glow that came from a mobile of the solar system dangled from the ceiling.

Watari was not in the front area of his lab. However, the piano music came from the back.

Hisoka quietly paced to the back, careful not to knock over glassware that sat precariously at the edge of the work benches or step on the potential bear trip on the ground. Hisoka visited Watari's lab before, within the safe presence of other more willing guinea pig, so Hisoka had plenty of time to memorize the general layout of the lab. The sound came from a particular area that Hisoka recalled seeing strangely shaped furniture that was covered with black velvet. Watari had once said it an emergency space for working, but the lack of dust and general neatness of that one area suggested something else.

Hisoka was treated to an unexpected scene.

Underneath that black velvet cloth was a glossy black grand piano. Watari was sitting at the piano bench, his fingers dancing across the keys, his eyes closed, entranced by the music. The ambient emotions coming from the man was not the usual erratic and blinding cheerfulness, but a rather stark white contentment.

For a good five minute, Hisoka only watched mesmerized by Watari's playing. There was no empathic shield to build up since there were no overwhelming emotions. The music was melodious and soothing to the ears. The performance conveyed an unspoken gentleness and yearning of the soul. The piece ended with Hisoka still watching with wide eyes and Watari looking slightly pensive at his piano.

Watari blinked as he felt the familiar heckling of the hairs at the back of his neck, signaling that someone was watching him. He automatically smiled as he turned and saw Hisoka.

"Hello, Bon. I didn't think you'll be here this late."

Hisoka was still in awe, even as Watari's mental shield rose immediately as a courtesy to Hisoka. "That's beautiful."

Watari smiled shyly at the praise. "Why. Thank you." Then as if remembering his manners, he offered, "Oh. I'm such a bad host. Why don't you have a seat? Do you want something to drink?"

"No!" The words came out faster and harsher than Hisoka could considered polite. "I was just about to go home...and...um...your..."

Watari seemed determined to feed Hisoka something. "Bon, you don't have to be so courteous. I've just made a new batch of tea," said Watari.

The man then proceeded to pull up a chair for Hisoka. Then he bounced to a nearby workbench that had a row of beakers heated by Bunsen burners. A beaker of softly bubbling pink liquid, poured it into a handy plastic sippy cup and handed it to Hisoka with an award-winning smile.

Hisoka stared at the pink liquid, not quite sure if he should be offended with the sippy cup. He did have a complex about being treated like a child and the sippy cup was a subtle indication of that. However, that was a more immediate danger to consider.

"It's not one of your potions, is it?" Hisoka asked, point blank. He had learned that with certain crazies in the Department, directness was the only way to get their attention.

"It's rose tea," said Watari with a hint of exasperation. "If I want to use you as guinea pig, I would've done so a lot earlier and much more subtly than this."

Mustering up some undiscovered courage, Hisoka sipped on the tea. He blinked as the liquid went down. "I do not feel strange."

"See," Watari said as he poured himself a cup of rose tea into a smaller beaker. He sipped on rose tea too, completely unafraid. "I'm not into poisoning people without an audience."

The words made Hisoka realize something though he was not quite sure what it was. There was something off about Watari when left within the confines of his own thoughts, something that was horribly exposed and vulnerable. Hisoka's comfortable view of Watari as a happy-go-lucky mad scientist seemed to crack. The new idea was entirely too depressing so Hisoka began the original reason why he came in. ""So um...who's the Artist to that piano piece. I want to get a recording."

"Me," said Watari offhandedly.

Hisoka almost choked on his tea. "You?"

Watari looked like he was about to giggle at Hisoka's facial expression. "Yes. Me. Who did you think?"

"But...you're an engineer!" Hisoka gestured toward the darken laboratory that looked like an electronic salvage yard.

"Oh. That. I was just better at math and science than everyone else at the school I went to," Watari explained as if he was just describing how to tie his shoes. "I had always wanted to become a musician ever since I was a child, and studied piano, music theory as I was growing up. I wanted to be like Mozart. So I continued in that parth, without my parent's knowledge, of course. I just wasn't as talented as everyone else in music."

"That's hard to believe," said Hisoka.

"Believe it," said Watari. "It was one of my hardest realizations. I was no prodigy of music, but I was a prodigy of science."

"Then what did you just called what you played? An accident?"

By then, Watari had a thoughtful look on his face "Reanimated."

Hisoka blinked. "What?"

"Reanimated," Watari repeated. Then he explained it further. "I wrote it in the summer of Showa 49. By then, I've already received my engineering degree. But I still had that dream of pursuing music. It was already discouraging since I had been held back a semester because I just couldn't draft an original composition to my liking. I was about to withdraw my application for graduation certificate when inspiration hit me hard. I composed like mad man."

"Showa 49," Hisoka did the numbers in his head. "That's almost thirty years ago! You would've been twenty-two years old!"

"Correct," said Watari.

"That's two years before you died," Hisoka added.

"That's very perceptive of you," said Watari. "Ah...blissful youth..." He looked thoughtful, and calm. But in Hisoka's empathic vision, he saw bursts of red and blue, the colors of extreme positive and negative emotions all meld into one.

With that same contemplative look, Watari suddenly asked, "Do you want to hear a story?"

Hisoka had initially wanted to say no. Watari had a habit of veering off topic. Additionally, it was late and it was impolite to intrude upon a person so close to bed time. However, Hisoka never really had time to speak with Watari at any length outside of passing messages between co-workers. Hisoka agreed with a hesitant "yes."

"It was a snowy February evening of Showa 49..."

~oOOo~

Year of Showa 49; Circa 1975 (3)

~oOOo~

Watari Yutaka, a student Kyoto University, was in trouble.

At twenty-one almost twenty-two years old, Watari was counted among the intellectual prodigies who was to move history. With a natural knack for all things mechanical and theoretical, he had been propelled to the top of his class and breezed through the toughest exams. In addition, he had an amiable personality, humble, good humor; he was a general all around well-liked guy. He had secured a graduate research position to go forth with doctorate studies in engineering. He had been promised a generous stipend and sizable scholarships to support his family and live relatively money worry free. Companies, government agencies and even the military had already solicited him for employment. Naturally handsome, he was one of the most sought after eligible bachelor by nearly all the females and even some males.

Now, looking down the barrel of pistol, a bat and listening to someone demanding money that he did not have, he wondered why he even tried so hard. Why hadn't he spent more time with his elderly parents? Why didn't he kiss the girl next door? Why didn't he take that class trip to Hokkaido when it was offered? Why hadn't he visited a hostess club? Why hadn't he tried to eat sea urchins? Why didn't he apply to music school? Most of all, why did he decide to take a short cut through a dark alleyway in middle of a snowing February day in middle of the night? Oh yeah, he was going to be late for a date with Kaori because it was Valentine's Day.

"Give me all your money, now, Kansai boy!" the main masked assailant demanded again. There were two of them, which significantly lowered the possibility of disarming both without potential fatality.

"I've already told you, I've given you all I have," Watari said petulantly. It was all just so unfair. People were expected to live until their sixties now and he was going to die in a third of that lifespan. He had too much to look forward to. Someone was going to pay dearly for this!

"And if you kill me, I'll haunt you for the rest of my afterlife!" Watari added as an afterthought.

"Shut up!" said the second masked assailant. "You're in no position to threaten us!"

"How can I threaten you? I'm not the one holding a gun here." The words left Watari's mouth before he had time to reconsider the inappropriateness of the comment. Oh well, he was known for some of his off-the-wall remarks anyways. Besides, if he was going to die, he might as well indulge in insults.

"Stupid Kansai hick!" The gunman braced his arm and pulled the safety, ready to shoot.

Watari stepped back, the events proceeding too rapidly for him to do anything else useful. The results of this one moment flashed in his mind. The police would probably find his stiffen body in the morning, brain matter spilled out on the grimy asphalt. His parents would probably sob over the picture of their only son. What about his date, would she even care? The girl seemed like she harbored some honest feelings for him. What about his stipend and scholarship money? They better not go to Raika. Did he remember to turn off the stove at the apartment? Would there be an explosion if he forgot? The property manager can't charge a dead man, can they? Would his parents foot the bill?

Suddenly, Watari heard some quick footsteps. He opened his eyes just in time to see a full figure flash by him. The figure pulled smooth choreographed moves, pushing the arm of one gunman until it pointed directly in between the eyes of the second assailant. The slightest flexing the fingers triggered the three rapid gunshots followed by a heavy slump and blood on the snow. The man on the ground's eyes were still open, three neat holes in his forehead and a large wet goop the back of his head; he did not even twitch, The confused surprise look still etched on his face

"Kushi!" cried the gunman as he wriggled himself out of the hold of the newcomer. His eyes bulged as he took one good look at the newcomer.

Tall, full bodied, bespectacled, hair in a tight bun and dressed in a black suite just like any overly attractive secretary for an overly rich company president, the woman was an imposing figure. "Sugi Hideki. You are hereby summoned to sixth block court of JuOhCho. Your time on earth is past."

"What are you?"

"A subpoena officer."

"What the fuck is that, you freak!" The masked gunman raised his arm and quickly popped a bullet in the newcomer's chest.

The stranger woman did not even recoil. The bullet went into her shirt and seemingly disappeared. As calm as a strolling lioness, she paced slowly forward. "You and Kushi Nagi were supposed to due in court, on January 29th, when you two overdosed. Since you never arrived, I've been assigned to bring you back with whatever means possible. Kushi Nagi's summon is complete. Now, it is your turn."

"You can go fuck yourself! You don't have proof of possession! You can't take me to court! I'm not going to jail!"

"Your ultimate fate is for the courts to decide." The woman took another steady step. "Either way, contrition is mandatory."

Confused and afraid, the masked gunman raised his arm, ready to splay the woman with bullets. "You stay away from me!"

The woman moved even faster. She grabbed the man's arm and easily wrestled the man's limb to point the gun at his own temple. A gunshot later, a second body slumped over. A hazy wisp rose out of the body and disappeared. Afterwards, the woman let the man fall to the ground with the same disdainful ease as one would toss a cigarette butt out of the window of the moving car.

Watari blinked. How did he go from being almost killed to witnessing a double murder? Who was this stranger woman? Was she wearing a Kevlar vest? Was she with some type of police force or yakuza? The sudden change and the resolution were so anticlimactic that he may very well be in some type of B-rated kung-fu movie knock off.

When she turned, Watari could only stare.

Cerulean eyes, a color rarely so brilliant, were set behind wire-rimmed glasses on a face framed by chestnut hair. There was a lazy wariness about her, similar to someone who was used to constant scrutiny. Her stance was bold, commonplace to someone was used having their opinion heard and acted upon. She looked professional, like someone who had worked for quite some time. Her aura had a funeral-like severity accentuated by the form fitting dark suit and black tie.

_'And if she glares anymore than that, anyone would die of fright,' _Watari thought as he felt an unfamiliar shiver down his spine.

"Great Kami, Tatsumi, you can't kill them faster?" a man grumbled sarcastically behind Watari.

The fifth person who came into this strange turn of events was a man who looked like he came out of an old movie, wearing a hamaka, a haori jacket along with a sword. He was as imposing as the woman, however, with a stale, mournful aura.

Seriously, a sword in this day and age? That's like trying to kill someone with a cotton ball.

"Time is money, Yugawa" the woman replied calmly. "And you did ask me to be quick about it."

The man shook his head. "I was thinking more along the lines of scaring them into leaving their bodies. Not a shoot out."

"Five bullets is hardly a shoot out," said the woman.

"Don't get so cocky, Tatsumi. I'm still your senior."

At that, Tatsumi crossed her arms. The glare was like daggers. "You forget your place, Yugawa. I am still your superior."

The staring contest was like watching someone squeezing an ant in between their fingers, the ant putting up a valiant but futile struggle. While it was amusing to watch, Watari felt a little snubbed for being ignored.

"Um...Excuse me. I'm still here," Watari chirped. "Can someone PLEASE tell me what's going on?"

The samurai and woman turned to Watari, looking at him as if he had just asked the stupidest question in the world. Their gaze made Watari feel that he had to justify himself.

"I just saw two guys getting bullets pumped into their skulls. I think I have a right to know if you're the police or the yakuza."

"You can see us?" asked Yugawa, his eyebrows raised.

"Of course I can see you," said Watari exasperated. Why do people with guns always sound so irrational? "I have eyes. Myopic creepy yellow ones, but that's beside the point!"

Yugawa chuckled almost evilly. "Those who can see us, are likely to die soon...Maybe you'll see us again and sooner than you think."

"Yugawa, do shut up," Tatsumi ordered. She reached into an inside pocket of her jacket and drew out a small sheet of paper with squiggly black symbols on them. "I do apologize for our interruption in your daily life. But you need to go to sleep now. What you just saw, is nothing but a strange dream."

Before Watari could say or react, he felt a light tap of finger and paper on his forehead. Without any further questioning, he fell as sleepiness overwhelmed him.

~oOOo~

"Yutaka-kun," called the girl named Kaori. She was an adorable girl one year junior to Watari whom Watari had known his entire schooling career. A nice traditional young woman of twenty-one with obsidian eyes and coal black hair, Kaori came from a good family that groomed her to become someone's useful trophy wife. Intelligent, popular, sweet and kind, many liked her and many more wanted to be her. She certainly knew many sons of the rich and powerful, many of them who openly pursued her. However, she seemed to always prefer Watari's company and had an on-and-off relationship with him since freshmen year in college. "You seem distant."

They were at the bar of a modest hotel near the university. After the incident at the alleyway, Watari had found himself waking up to a headache in his apartment. Approximately two hours had passed since he was in the alleyway and he could not remember anything that happened in between. He certainly remembered meeting the two goons who demanded money and the two weirdoes who Watari dubbed samurai-wanna be and MI6 agent 004. He definitely recalled the two goons being shot by Ms. 004.

Then reality hit Watari hard as he remembered his date with Kaori. After spending a minute cursing his terrible absentmindedness and pounding migraine, he called her, ready to apologize profusely. As it turned out, someone had called Kaori and gave her the excuse that Watari had something came up in the lab so he'll be postponing their date.

Kaori, was miffed, to say the least. "Something came up at the lab" was Watari's most common excuse, one that he had used before to avoid unwanted social obligations. Kaori knew because she had seen him do it right in front of her before. This time, Watari had promised her that nothing would prevent him from ruining their magical candle lit date. Kaori, however, also understood Watari's unpredictable inspirations that would drive the man to forgo food and sleep until his curiosity was satisfied. Being quite the understanding girl, Kaori settled for a make-up date at a nice bar several hours later. She even ordered the least expensive drinks so Watari did not have to break his piggy bank.

Back to the conversation, Watari turned to look at Kaori who had a concerned expression on her face. "Sorry, Kaori-chan. I was just thinking."

"When are you NOT thinking?" said Kaori, a little exasperated. "What is it this time? A pulse gun? Or some beam canon powered by anti-matter engine?" It was no secret that Watari's primary research and interest was in advanced weaponry. In fact, his biggest benefactor was the military.

Watari shook his head. "I've already made the pulse gun. The anti-matter engine is another problem in itself. I think CERN (2) maybe the only place in the world that can make the antimatter and they haven't made it yet..." Watari continued on with a long exposition that Kaori listened with only a vague hint of interest. Watari was both fascinating and boring because of that he was very knowledgeable in many esoteric topics. Watari could talk for hours on end without ever repeating himself, and without his audience grasping a single word.

While Watari babbled on, Kaori's attention began to wander to their surroundings.

It was half until midnight, the perfect time to see wary second shift worker coming to bars to unwind before going home and collapse. Several workers, professional along with regular machine workers, gathered about the bar, many with their special someone.

Most people were at a table or a booth. Groups of high-profile businessmen talked business while their pretty escorts filled their drinks and entertained them with conversation.

There was gathering of people and many couples who seemed deeply absorb by each other's faces. There was intensity, fascination and feelings in those gazes. It was a disgusting to watch but Kaori felt a little envious.

Would Watari ever look at her like that?

No. Watari's first love was science. He would forever look at his lab apparati and mathematical formulae with more interest than a beautiful woman.

Kaori was about to turn her attention back too Watari when she noted one person who was down on his luck.

Sitting at the end of the bar by himself was a twenty-something year old. He looked to be someone who just entered the workforce. His face was still smooth without the characteristic hallows and lines of a veteran worker. His wore a collared shirt and loose tie underneath a trench coat, suggesting a job that required one to look like a professional. It was odd that he wore his watch on his right wrist. He warily hunched over the bar, resting his crossed arm against the bar table. His face was half hidden behind the arms. He gazed mournfully at nothing in front of him. A single yellow blossom rested next to him. Looking closer, Kaori thought, "_Does he have colored contacts? Handsome though."_

"Kaori," Watari groused. "Now **you're** the one being distant. You haven't heard a word I've said."

"I got distracted by something," said Kaori, turning her attention back to Watari.

"What?'

Kaori nodded toward the lone man at the end of the bar. "That guy. He looked pathetic."

"Any guy sitting by himself on Valentine's Day has a reason to look pathetic," Watari reasoned.

Kaori still looked at the stranger sympathetically. "Bartender!" she called out suddenly.

The said bartender shuffled over to her in ten seconds. "Miss?"

"How long has that guy been down there?" Kaori asked.

"Mr. Purple Eye?" asked the bartender. Seeing the nod, the barman said, "He's been here all day. Says he's waiting for someone."

"Looks like he's been ditched," said Watari, quickly losing interest.

"Send him a drink," said Kaori. "On us. No one should be alone on Valentine's Day."

Watari raised a brow. Kaori had just indirectly enacted charity at the expense of his wallet as he would be picking up the bill. And since Watari skipped out on her earlier, he did not have a reason to object either.

The bartender took his time. He first served his more wealthy customers then delivered a bottle of beer to Mr. Purple Eye. The man gave a heart-melting grateful look like a puppy that had just been saved from drowning.

Kaori smiled back at the stranger, looking rather charmed by that handsome face.

Watari however, did not care. He instead, mentally calculated the cost of that bottle of beer and added it to his tab. He was not in a position to be charitable at all times. So while Kaori was making faces, Watari glanced about the bar and restaurant area. He noted nothing of interest outside of people in their mindless pursuits of entertainment. Life should be about discovery and accomplishments with only momentary distractions to satisfy the needs of the flesh and nothing more. He was about to turn his attention back to Kaori when he noticed someone.

That freaky secret agent from earlier had just entered the bar area.

Watari had to blink a couple of times and clean his glasses twice before believing what he was seeing. There was no way that he was hallucinating. He could never forget that subtly domineering presence and glacier blue eyes. But that begged another question too. Why did a woman just randomly show up at an upscale bar?

Oh man. She was going to pop his chest full of bullets for being a witness!

However, the mystery woman did not seem to notice him. In fact, she seemed rather relaxed with the top button of her shirt loose and most of her hair free from that scalp-ripping tight bun. Even though it was snowing heavily outside, she wore no coat. Her expression though, was still as severe as a judge. She passed the two college students like a ghost, inconspicuous and silent.

To the surprise of both, the object of their pity, Mr. Purple-Eye, suddenly smiled. The handsome stranger's expression lit up like a child at Christmas. He exclaimed a name, hopped out of his stool and enthusiastically hugged the stern woman. Then, seemingly remembering where they were, Mr. Purple-Eye let the woman go. He then apologized profusely for something until the stern woman held up a hand to stop him. Having been forgiven, Mr. Purple-Eye smiled again. He shyly brought out the singular flower and gently placed the stem of the flower in the crook of the woman's ear.

"Looks like he's not alone anymore," Watari choked out, holding up a hand and hoping to god that that the mystery woman never look his way. He needed to get out of here. "Kaori-chan, how about we go for a walk in the park?" Watari suggested. "It'll be romantic."

"Yeah," said Kaori, now sounding a little subdued. She kept on glancing back to Mr. Purple-Eye and even as Watari paid the tab and dragged her out of the place. For the rest of the night, Kaori kept on remembering only one scene.

That handsome face with violet eyes gazing upon the mystery woman with absolute adoration.

Hisoka's face was full of questions. "Why are you telling me about a random date that you had?"

Watari raised an eyebrow. "I'm a little disappointed in you, Bon, that you didn't notice. That was the first time I met Tatsumi and Tsuzuki. Tatsumi saved me from being sprayed with bullets for chump change. Tsuzuki was the lonely Mr. Purple-Eye that Kaori sympathized with. They were in Kyoto late one night for their Valentines in Showa 49."

"What?" Somehow, the news was surprising to Hisoka. "They are together?"

"They were," Watari corrected.

Hisoka looked like the idea broke his brain. It took him some time before voicing his disbelief. "The department's worse slob with the department's neatest workaholic? Are you serious?"

"It does appear that way, doesn't it?" Watari said with a know-it-all grin.

"Tatsumi didn't just eat him alive after all these years?"

Watari gave Hisoka a speculative look. "Are you afraid of Tatsumi, Bon?"

"Well..." Hisoka trailed off. Was he afraid of the Ministry's secretary who controlled their missions, their paychecks, their expenses, their vacations, their comfort or discomforts and the general fate of their afterlives? No. Of course not.

"You don't have to answer that," Watari said, thinking that their newest addition to the Department wanted to reserve his opinions.

"I'm not afraid of a mere woman," Hisoka replied.

"No?"

"I'm absolutely terrified," Hisoka admitted. One secret for another. Now that he knew Tatsumi and Tsuzuki had a history, he might as well confess something.

It took a moment for Watari to process the word, but he only smiled, voicing no sound of mirth. "You and rest of Meifu...well, the sane ones anyways," He glanced at the clock. "You should be going home. It's past your bed time."

"Stop treating me like a child," Hisoka immediately said, not realizing how childish that made him sound.

"Well, come in late tomorrow, and you'll learn exactly how much of a child you will be treated," said Watari.

Hisoka realized exactly how correct Watari's statement was. A late employee, which usually meant Tsuzuki, was often the target of Tatsumi's ire. Not wanting to be on the receiving end of that ire, Hisoka headed for the door. He was careful not to break or accidentally push over the delicate lab instruments or beakers filled with neon-colored liquids. Hisoka was sure that he wouldn't want to see the side effects of touching some of these liquids.

Before Hisoka left, he did ask one thing of Watari. "You will tell me the rest of the story, won't you?"

By then, Watari had returned to his piano, his fingers absently running through a rapid warm up set of keys. He seemed content to spend the remainder of the night in his lab, as usual, and go on about one of his many obsessions. "I'll think about it."

~oOOo~

(1) The British secret service. And all of you who have seen or heard of James Bond should know this.

(2) European Organization for Nuclear Research. A particle physical laboratory that tests high-energy physics. It's also the birthplace of the World Wide Web. Anti-matter was theorized before 1900 but was not really "created" until 1995, at both CERN in Geneva and Fermi lab in Chicago.

(3) Correct me if I am wrong, but I'm certain that Watari died in 1977, which I think is Showa 49, according to the Japanese dating system.


End file.
